


Star-Crossed Wires

by watery_weasel



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Barebacking, Demigods, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Teen Angst, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watery_weasel/pseuds/watery_weasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU based on Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. Tommy and Adam are modern day demigod sons of greek mythology attending a summer camp for other teens like them, learning the basics of how to be divine and not end up monster chow. In which the boys learn being a demigod is seriously overrated and that love only makes everything that much more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star-Crossed Wires

**Author's Note:**

> Written and originally posted for the Lambliff Big Bang last year. Finally got around to putting it up here as well.

Tommy had been doing better too. That’s what everybody had seemed to think of him, his counselors and cabin mates, he’d been doing well at Camp Half- Blood. Better, at least, compared to every other place in his life. Of course, that didn’t say much about what his life had been before- just another angry, sullen teenage runaway, hardened around the edges and carrying all of his life in a tattered black backpack.

He’d been doing good though, even self-admittedly, because he had finally been in a place where things made sense. Where he finally had answers even for the questions he didn’t know he had wanted to ask. 

Like why had trouble been imprinted in him since the day he was born. He had an answer now, because he was a modern day teenage demigod, and as weird as that was...the information had slotted into his head, filling in the blank spaces, the plot holes in his life story.

Son of Apollo, they called him. That was something he wore with pride, finally a role he’d fit into the same way he fit into the camp. It explained the notebooks full of chicken-scratch poetry and how music was the only language he was fluent in. 

He had friends for the first time too, like Monte, who was only a few years older than Tommy’s own 16 years but had been at the Camp something like forever and was Head of Apollo cabin. Mia too, who was feisty and a little crazy and was every inch the party girl Daughter of Dionysus. Yeah, things had been really good. He had been good, until Adam Lambert showed up, escorted, a little bloody and bruised but grinning over the crest of Half Blood Hill with his guardian satyr Kris in tow. 

Tommy had been sweeping the porch of the main house, after taking part of the fall for one of Dave’s pranks the first time they met. Tommy had never been attracted to a boy before at least not that way. It had never been beyond an acknowledgment another guy is hot, maybe a bit of curiosity, but Adam was like a punch to the gut, sudden lust and attraction making his stomach tighten like he was going to throw up. 

Adam had sat on the porch while his satyr had gone inside, no doubt informing Chiron, the camp director, of their new arrival. 

“I’m sorry, I’m bleeding all over your clean porch.” Adam had said, still smiling, his eyes vibrantly blue, looking like a bruised hero, clutching the tattered sleeve of his shirt to the gash in his arm. He looked more handsome than any demigod had a right to look fresh from a fight. Body shimmering with a sheen of sweat under the rich colors of the vibrant sunset, that had sunk below half blood hill casting the sky in reds and purples. 

“Fuck it, it’s not my porch.” Tommy said, grinning as he leaned against the broom handle, trying not to look scrawny and sullen and awkward. 

“Well, no worries then.” He said, smiling easily at him, like he couldn’t be more content to be there, thick little drops of blood dripping from his arm, and Tommy thought, this one is different.

He reached out for Adam when he winced in pain, pressing the makeshift bandage a little more firmly to his skin. 

“Let me help?” Tommy had asked and Adam had frowned a moment before pulling the scraps of cloth away. Tommy pressed his flat palm against the cut and thought hard, let his power surge through him, up from his core like a heat wave from deep inside. He was still new at the whole healing powers thing, but he wasn’t so bad. 

“Couple harpies caught us as we were coming up to the hill.” Adam said, and Tommy didn’t know what to make of him looking into his eyes, so intent, focused. 

“You gave the bitches hell I hope?” Tommy asked him, pulling his hand away, feeling a rush of pride at seeing that pale skin knitted back together, Adam’s arm and palm of his hand smeared in shocking red. 

“I’m more a lover than a fighter but...I think I did alright.” Tommy had a feeling it was better than alright but he just smiled, feeling warm wet of blood on his hand and feeling very close to this damn near stranger. 

“Sorry, must be the blood loss making me rude. I’m Adam.” 

“Tommy Joe...son of Apollo.” He added, because divine heritage becomes part of your identity, how you label yourself. 

Then of course Kris, Adam’s satyr, was back. His hoofs made a soft clomp-clomp on the old wood porch as he gestured for Adam to follow him inside, probably to get a proper greeting from Chiron and Mr. D.

“It was nice to meet you, Tommy Joe. And...thank you.” Adam said gently touching his arm where the cut had been before, a hint of awe in his tone. 

From that moment, Tommy just knew that things were changed, like there was heavy ozone in the air, like a storm about to break. But instead of being scared, he was exhilarated, anxious, waiting on it. 

It wasn’t that things were bad with Adam there. No, Tommy wouldn’t ever say that, because what it becomes later, why it hurts, that wasn’t Adam’s fault.

Adam ends up in Cabin 11, the Hermes Cabin, the temporary stop where all the unclaimed demigods end up. It’s where they stay until their God parent claims them as their blood. For how long depends, some get claimed within days. With others, well it can be months sometimes years of not knowing. Some never get claimed, there aren’t many of those, but they all have the same look, a quiet tightness, a pinch in their face, hard glint of bitterness in their eyes. 

Tommy called them the forgotten and he hoped from the beginning that Adam wouldn’t end up as one of them.

Over the next few days they exchanged a handful of precious glances, little smiles at their lessons and from across the crowded dinner tables. Tommy learned, from talk and observation, that Adam was 16 like him, that he was passable with a sword but better with a crossbow, and that, as a general rule, Adam avoided fights. Like when Danny, being a typical Son of Ares, tried to start something with one of the younger kids from Hermes cabin and somehow, Adam had made him retreat back to his own table like a scolded puppy.

Overall, Tommy didn’t know what to make of Adam after that first week, but he didn’t stop looking, and Adam, he noted, kept looking back. 

The next time they actually talked wasn’t until late one day, after the bonfire and camp sing along. All of the younger kids had been shepherded off to the cabins and only a few clusters of campers remained, huddled into small pockets, talking over the dying flickers of the firelight. 

Adam had been talking with a group of people from the Aphrodite cabin, Brooke and Terrence among them, and other campers Tommy knew by face but not name. Well, had been talking to them, until he’d slipped away at some point and reappeared on the bench beside Tommy sidled in close, so Tommy felt the heat of Adam all along his leg, from hip to foot. Somehow hotter than the waves of heat off the campfire, in a way that made Tommy’s skin prickle with sweat. 

“I should have figured you played guitar.” Adam said, eyes tinged dark and wicked by the dancing hues of the campfire, dim oranges and yellows made his face golden.

Tommy had nodded, ducked his head and smiled as he tightened his loose hold on the guitar sprawled across his lap, he often played for the sing-alongs, him and Monte, of course. 

“Yeah, I have that look about me right?” Tommy asked him, using his free hand to push back the bright blond fringe of his hair. “Probably the eyeliner...or ya know, the nail polish.” He said, somehow managed to say it around the tight ball of excitement lodged in his throat at Adam’s presence. 

“I’ve always been attracted to musicians.” Adam said softly, then had realized how that sounded and ducked his own gaze, laughing at himself with a sheepish smile, rubbing his fingers across the back of his neck. “Not like, you know, attracted like that.” He mumbled, less like the mysterious hero like figure he’d seemed last week with that tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“But drawn to.” He corrected, though Tommy was a little more fascinated with the play of shadow and light across his face than his words. He was just fucking beautiful. His body broad and solid looking, like those statues of what demigods were supposed to look like. Nothing like Tommy himself, scrawny and skinny, all bones and sharp angles, delicate features. 

Tommy wanted to press their naked bodies together in the dark, paint himself onto Adam and see if they fit together like he thought they might, hard bone slotting with soft muscle. Something divine in him loves the sense of poetry in the contradiction of it.

“You know what I mean?” Adam finally asked, and Tommy jumped, blushing at having been caught staring so intently. 

“Oh um...yeah, yeah definitely.” Tommy said fumbling for words and half hiding behind the long fringe of his hair, the best shield he had when it came to being social. “Sometimes I think that...you know, music is the only thing that makes sense in the world.” Tommy whispered.

“I get that.” Adam said softly, his voice soft and somber, like the sad melody of a music box, almost lost under the warm crack-snap of the dying bonfire. 

Just for a second, Tommy saw a flash of something sad and regretful in Adam’s eyes. As cool as being a little bit divine is, it also kind of sucks, the weight of anticipated heroism, the need to keep running, keep running or fight, hunted by one monster or another, and they never stop fucking coming, he remembered with the too-familiar burn of griffin scratches long since healed across the expanse of his back. 

“Anyway.” Adam said, the look blinked away. “Even when shit was like...going crazy. When I was trying to juggle puberty and figure out being a demi-god. No matter how bad I felt, I could still sing and it just, that still made sense and, it made me feel better. I guess. More like Adam and less like this person that, was supposed to be capable of these otherworldly things .” He said, sighing. 

“I mean, I just don’t get it.” He admitted softly. “I’m not fucking Batman. I’m not a hero, and I don’t want to be. I never asked for it. I just want to live to see my high school graduation.” Adam added, managing a laugh. 

Tommy settled his hand half on top of Adam’s where it was picking invisible lint from his thigh and lightly brushed his thumb across the soft knuckles. “You’re totally more badass than Batman.” Tommy said, before he grinned wide and nudged their shoulders together, their laughter getting carried off by the breeze off the sound. 

The thing about a new camper in such a small camp is that there is always curiosity. Nobody has ever heard of privacy, not at Camp Half Blood, so naturally there was a camp wide betting pool on Adam’s heritage. That was the first time he’d worried, hell, the first time he’d even stopped to think about it, when he’d seen all those gold drachmas neatly stacked over the label ‘Apollo’. 

Adam wasn’t his brother though, he’d reminded himself, that just wasn’t possible. So he’d swallowed the bile at the back of his throat and thrown a couple drachmas into the ‘Aphrodite’ pile. Then he’d forgotten about it, because it wasn’t important. 

Adam found him two days later by accident, sitting out on the sandy dunes while he watched waves crash an endless rhythm on the shore of long island sound. Crash-swish-crash. Each wave breaking like an exhale, each drawing back of the water into the next wave like an inhale, and the rhythm is soothing. Well, then again, that might be the pot, Tommy wasn’t sure. 

It was after midnight, and the full moon cast blue-silver light on the beach made everything ethereal and beautiful. 

“I see you really are the Camp bad boy, huh?” Adam said, skin looking flawless in the moonlight.

Tommy laughed, smoke blowing out of his lips and dancing around his face. “Oh yeah, the worst. The boy your Mama warned you about.” 

Adam laughed in return as he settled down into the dunes with him. He didn’t need an invitation, Tommy was sure he never would, not if those fucking butterflies in his gut had anything to say about it.Tommy liked Adam’s company--Adam was all smiles and chatter and life, which balanced well with Tommy’s tendency for quiet, his occasional sullen moods.

“I think I’ll take my chances.” Adam said while he stretched his long legs in front of him and leaned back into the palms of his hands. 

“So maybe not as good as rumor has it then?” Tommy asked when he leaned toward Adam and more into his space, but Adam didn’t back back off. He just met his eyes with a little bemused grin.

“Not nearly as good.” He replied, a meaningful lift to one dark brow, breath warm on Tommy’s face.

Tommy was really stoned at that point, because the shit Mia grows is fucking quality, and Tommy is pretty sure that it could knock a chimera on it’s fucking ass. So yeah, he’s mellow, loose limbed and didn’t have a care in the world. Still a shiver of dark pleasure worked it’s way down his spine and settled in his gut, like a spark igniting a powder keg.

Adam was flirting. Adam was flirting and so so close. His eyelashes impossibly long and face pale, flawed with hints of healed pimples and so many freckles. 

He’s only seen Adam in half light; that, or at a distance so he’d missed the freckles, the flaws...the fucking normalcy of it. Something about Adam from that first day had just been huge, larger than life, something that went on a pedestal for admiration. Now Tommy knows, he’s just Adam, just another camper, confused, new, trying to figure it out, the same way they all are or had been. 

He’s just Adam, but Tommy is no less attracted, no less breathless for that fact. 

“Bad enough to want a hit?” Tommy asked, realizing he’d been staring at him a moment, but Adam hadn’t seemed to mind, like he’d forgotten they were talking beyond the conversation of flashing heat back and forth as they met each other’s eyes.

Tommy isn’t one to share his stash usually, cause Mia supplies him special and the fewer people that know about the it the better, but it’s Adam and there is no way he can’t offer. Not with Adam huddled into the sand with him, they’re almost wrapped around each other, nestled into the dunes like it’s a nature made nest for the two of them. 

“You’re actually gonna share with me?” Adam asked him, mouth quirked in a half grin and still so close, close enough that above the thick smell of pot he can catch hints of Adam’s scent, clean shampoo and undertones of sweat and sin. He smells like horny teenage boy and that fact twists in Tommy’s belly and it makes him bold.

Tommy just grinned as he sucked in another hit, slender joint pinched delicately in his long fingers. He reached up, non-dominant hand caressing against Adam’s neck, curved his fingers around the nape, twisting at the short strands of hair. He tugged Adam in those last few inches and sealed their slightly open mouths together. 

Tommy’s eyelids fluttered shut as he exhaled, tasting thick mellow pot smoke as a few wisps escape, curling up around their faces in translucent plumes. Adam breathes in his exhale, stealing hot dry smoke and all the air out of Tommy, leaving him breathless, clinging with a sharp twist of his fingers to Adam’s hair, moaning oh-so-soft in the back of his throat as he forced himself to relax and slide away. He settled back into the sand as he watched Adam breath out the second hand smoke, lazy and slow, expression sexy and satisfied, smirking at him in invitation.

The fuck with the joint! Tommy thought as he crushed out the stub of joint into the sand beside his knee, he’d rather get high off Adam’s mouth, his tongue, his kisses. Tommy made the move but Adam met him right in the middle, caught him up into his arms as Tommy licked his way into Adam’s hot generous mouth. 

The kiss is lazy, wet and slow, deep and open and dirty, all tongue and lips but edged with something sharp and needy underneath. Something that Tommy can almost taste as he swallows down the low rumble of contentment from Adam. By the time he pulled away he was half in Adam’s lap, not sure how he got there, high as a kite and thoroughly kissed.

They ended up curled on their sides in the sand, looking at each other and exchanging kisses that were more smoke than fire, passionate but lacking the urgency of needing more. It stayed leisurely and lazy, sweet licks against each other’s teeth, hands skimming everywhere, dipping just under the hem of cotton t-shirts.

“This should totally be weird.” Tommy murmured eventually, between little kisses that are teasing, breaking up the words of his sentence and making him stammer and giggle. 

“Why should it be weird?” Adam asked, quiet, serious. His hand splayed wide on Tommy’s hip, thumb hooked just under the warm cotton of his shirt, pressing into that too-thin sensitive skin stretched just beside the sharp jut of his bone. Tommy wonders if Adam can feel the rapid hummingbird pace of his heart there, if he can feel the vibration in the pad of his thumb, like the hum of a strummed guitar string.

“I’ve never; with a guy.” Tommy replied, eyes lowered slightly, it maybe should feel weird, but it doesn’t, not at all. Tommy is a lone wolf kind, not anti-social but he’s worried that he might need Adam far too much, far too fast. Tommy is used to people leaving ‘cause that’s what people do but already he never wants Adam to go. “Also, I kind of...barely know you, when I think about it.” 

“What else do you need to know to make it not totally weird?” Adam asked him, voice teasingly mocking but his eyes all big and earnest and wanting to please. Tommy had a feeling that if he asked Adam would tell him the absolute truth of the universe, if he knew it himself. 

“Everything?” Tommy hazarded, unsure laughter coloring his voice. It’s true though, he wants to know everything. If Adam were a book he’d be the only one Tommy wanted to read cover to cover, to know every truth of. The good and the bad and the fucked up, all of it. 

Adam did laugh at that, warm and honey sweet, Tommy could listen to his joy forever, like an endless looping play-list on his iPod. Not that he had time to think about it, his head sort of stuttered to a stop when Adam rolled over on top of him, knees sinking into the sand on either side of Tommy’s hips. 

“I love how specific you are.” Adam says, grinning bright, lopsided and boyish. Tommy just shrugs, looking innocent.

“So pick something and just talk about it.” Tommy said, voice hushed. The moment feels intimate, private, it steals the moisture out of his mouth, makes it hard to talk. “Family?”

Adam gets a little far away smile and when he talks again the fondness is clear and tangible. “My family...is awesome, I miss them like, all the time.” Adam confesses and Tommy could see that flash of sad again. He didn’t say anything, just waits, eyes eager and gently prompting for more.

“I have a little brother, Neil and he’s a sarcastic little shit, ya know?” Adam sighed, amusement clear before continuing. “My Dad is just like, really chill, easy to talk to, weirdly zen about things. He also has pretty much the best record collection ever, I used to spend hours in the basement just picking out random vinyls ‘cause the covers looked badass and just listening to them...trying to memorize them all. It’s weird, he always got super proud when I would sing something from his collection. Sometimes I would learn these songs I didn’t even like because he’d grin and ruffle my hair say I was the best coolest son but not to tell Neil, cause he’d get jealous.” Adam said, mouth smiling, eyes far away in memory before he blushed slightly, like he remembered Tommy was there and shook his head a little, catching his brown eyes again.

“I know. I’m sentimental and lame, it’s ok, I own that, you can tell me so.” 

“No, keep going. I like hearing you talk.” Tommy said, cheeks pink in return because Tommy could listen to Adam talk about nothing and not be bored. Adam lights up when he talks, not like Tommy who tends to close up, drift further inward cause it’s hard to say everything he means. 

“Anyway, my mom is...” Adam trailed off before releasing a big heavy breath, love making his eyes a little wet, full of emotion. “I think her heart is too big for her chest. She just...she loves so much. It’s beautiful, people who care that much.” Adam said, biting his lip, faltering and Tommy can just sense this is equal parts hard and wonderful, talking about his mother. So his hand catches Adam’s, slips their fingers together with a squeeze, quiet and supportive. “She just accepts people, just like they are.” Adam said softly and Tommy can feel how grateful Adam is for her. He wished he could meet her, cause to Tommy she sounds amazing. 

“I love her. All of them really, even my little brother.” Adam said laughing. 

“That’s why I had to go.” His voice gone all somber, that sad and sort of broken look in his eyes. 

“Why?” Tommy whispered, slowly sliding his fingers from where they’re curled between Adam’s matching their hands together, pressing palm to palm, sweaty and real. 

“My mom told me a while ago, that I wasn’t you know, human.” Adam said softly. “It only got worse after I knew. With the monsters, I mean. More incidents, attacks, close calls, like...really close.” Adam said, something dark in his memory making him frown. “Me and Neil almost died and still, they wanted me to stay. Even though I was dangerous to be around, it’s like they didn’t mind being collateral damage and I just...I couldn’t, ya know?” Adam said, something quiet breaking in his voice, a little hitch in his breath, tears sticking in his black lashes.

“I couldn’t put them in danger anymore, I needed to be able to defend myself, my family. I needed to be a real demigod I figured, or else,” He paused, eyes closing and opening again. “Or else I would never be able to stay there with them. I couldn’t let myself.” He admitted, breath shuddering in and out. In and out. 

Tommy can’t even take the open pain in his voice, the trust Adam has in him, he can’t even hear it because it hurts that good, as he leans up, palms in the sand and matches their lips together. Tender and comforting, Tommy doesn’t know what to say, but that doesn’t mean he can’t do, and do he does. This kiss is nothing like the first, it’s unsure, shaky, like a newborn colt that doesn’t trust it’s legs but it’s sweet and it leaves them both wide eyed and staring,Tommy shyly and Adam wondrous, like he doesn’t believe any of this is real. 

Adam just rested, his forehead pressed to Tommy’s and they breathed open-mouthed in sync, not quite kissing, gathering themselves back together. Like they’re each silently gluing their broken pieces back unto the core of who they are, like that will somehow hide the cracks.

“So...what about you? Family?” Adam asked, voice more steady, warm and prompting, just as curious as Tommy. 

Tommy shrugged, eyes darting away, quick and evasive. “Everybody has a family. I mean...I didn’t spring out of sea-foam or anything.” Tommy said, covering with enough humor, even though he knows Adam won’t buy it. He feels bad, trying to hide after Adam cracked himself open for Tommy, showed him his battle scars, and not the ones that are written into his freckled skin. 

“I ran away.” Tommy says suddenly, collapsing back into the sand, getting lost in the stars twinkling in the solid dark blanket of the sky. He wondered how long it might take to count them, wondered if he’d forget how much this hurt to talk about by the time he’d finished. “It’s not like my family was bad.” He said, quickly enough. “They loved me and all, I knew that.” He said softly, meeting Adam’s eyes and he doesn’t see pity, just quiet curiosity, understanding. Somehow, that makes it harder. 

“I also knew they resented me too, because nothing was ever easy with me. Not at the beginning, or the middle or the end. I was always in trouble and moody and I wouldn’t be able to talk to them. Sometimes I’d just sulk in my room for a whole weekend writing bad poetry.” Tommy said his smile brittle, a paper thin bandage over a deep infected gash. 

“I mean...who’d want to have to take care of a little snot like me right?” He asked Adam softly. “So I just figured...I could take care of myself anyway, spare them the trouble. I ran, and I found my way here and I just...never left.” He said softly, feeling fragile, broken open for Adam in a way he hates being, in a way that leaves him exposed, but Adam still isn’t looking at him with pity, his eyes are just warm, accepting. 

“I’m like...basically the world’s worst house-crasher.” He said, covering with humor, cause laughing is easier, much much easier than crying. 

“Thank you for telling me.” Adam’s voice was quiet, serious in the aftermath of emotion, his smile grateful as he leans over Tommy, crowding into his space but Tommy doesn’t mind.

“Whatever. I mean, it isn’t like a secret or anything.” That’s true, it isn’t a secret, never really has been, everyone at Camp basically knows everybody else's story. At the same time though, it isn’t something he talks about.

Tommy doesn’t say anything after, just curls his fingers into Adam’s shirt and tugs him down enough to meet those freckled lips again, mouth caught open and moaning when Adam presses him down into the sand and takes things Tommy didn’t know he wanted to give. 

They became a thing. It isn’t something they talked about or labeled, but they were something like boyfriends and even though June wasn’t even over, Tommy is already thinking that this summer, this summer is going to be the best one yet.

Camp Half-Blood is so not the best place for romance though, the days are jammed from morning til dusk with training and activities. Buried under the fun of endless summer days are the lessons they need to learn, the only shit that will help keep them alive out there in the real world if any of them hope to live something like a normal life beyond the boundaries of the camp, the world is a cruel place at the end of the day, and it’s even crueler to demi-gods, that was something Tommy knew as well as anybody there. 

As older campers though, they get a little leeway. Of course, the wisdom of that is questionable, considering what some of them do with that leeway, but Tommy is only too happy to take advantage of the system. 

Tommy and Adam find stolen moments when they can, between lessons and dinner and before bed, whenever they can find a spare moment to just chill. They never get enough, not in Tommy’s opinion, but each one is precious and awesome, always the best part of Tommy’s day. 

Today they decided to say fuck it, and they’d cut out of all their lessons, just lingering in the thick woods where they start to thin out before the shoreline, pretending they’re the only people in the world. They might as well be, considering the little insulated bubble they had around them all day. They talk about nothing, snack on sandwiches they snatched from lunch that they ducked out of. It’s later afternoon when they find out they’re both from Southern California, and Tommy is sort of amused it took when so long to figure that part out. He still thinks it’s crazy; how he feels about Adam compared to how much he still has to even learn about him, but mystery is sort of part of the charm too.

“It would figure we’re both from like...a similar area, and where do we actually meet? Literally on the other side of the country. Long fucking Island, damn, go figure.” Adam’s got his fingers buried in Tommy’s hair, a distracting caress that started as combing out the multi-directional mess and somewhere along the conversation just became comfortable, something that has Tommy’s eyes rolling back and his eyelashes fluttering. 

Tommy’s got his head in Adam’s lap, making a pillow out of Adam’s meaty thighs, buzzed on a full stomach and good conversation, overdosed on Adam’s smile which has him acting like a chick with a crush, all giggly and happy.

“Why would that figure?” Tommy finally bothered to ask, eyes opening with a few slow blinks, he’s frowning slightly, questioning.

“I mean like..think about it.” Adam says with a sigh, like it’s hard to explain in so many words. “People who live in a close geographical location, they’re more likely to meet. Just by odds, with chance, you know? Like a theme park or a grocery store or gas station or whatever, the closer they live, the more likely it is that if they’re gonna meet it would be like that, right?” 

Tommy just nodded, like he’s too lazy to even respond, but his eyes were open, focused on Adam, listening. 

“Anyway, not us, we meet at, statistically, the least likely place. So I mean, it’s more like fate isn’t it? Like it’s something that’s supposed to happen, just because well, more likely it’s fate than chance at this point, right?” Adam suggested and Tommy blinked, once, again, and nodded, getting it, but he’s still frowning.

“I don’t believe in fate.” Tommy confessed when the moment stretched out like taffy, and Adam snickered, his freckled mouth twisting up into a smirk or something like it.

“Son of Apollo doesn’t believe in fate?”Adam asked, tinge with surprise. “You really are a rebel, aren’t you?”

Tommy just snickers in return, and shrugs before he tugs at Adam’s shirt and cranes his neck, meets him awkwardly in the middle for a quick brush of lips, that alone is enough to make all sorts of familiar heat pool in his belly. “I already told you I was.” Tommy reminded him. “I’m the boy your Mama warned you about, remember?”

Adam’s lips were still tingling with that just been kissed feeling and his smile was almost too wide, almost stretching his face to the point of being goofy. “How could I forget?” He asked, suggestive enough to be playful. 

Tommy’s long, restless musician fingers are playing with the fabric of Adam’s camp shirt, twisting the warm, well-washed cotton up in his grip before releasing it. They lose the train of conversation for a good while, but that’s one of the things Tommy appreciates, talking is so easy with Adam, but it’s nothing he has to do, not when the silence is easy and thoughtful the way it is.

“So, I’ve been thinking.” Tommy said eventually, still sort of soaking up all that lazy, happy, Adam feeling.

“Ooh, sounds dangerous.” Adam said smirking, eyes far too playful, mischievous. Altogether far too handsome, he makes Tommy’s heart hurt just looking at him. 

“You’re such a dick.” Tommy tells him and Adam shrugs, grin unrepentant.

“Anyway...you’ve been thinking...” Adam prompted, smirk softening out into a grin that is charming and wheedling and please, forgive me. “What has my boy got in his pretty head?”

Tommy blames the brightness of his smile on being referred to by Adam as ‘his boy’, he doesn’t bother to ask himself when he turned into such a girl, the answer is pretty moot.

“I was wondering when you were gonna put your money where your mouth is and actually sing for me?”

Adam laughs again but his eyes are so earnest when he speaks and Tommy wouldn’t think to question the truth in what Adam tells him, he just knows he wouldn’t lie. “I don’t know, whenever.”

Adam twirled a strand of Tommy’s hair around and around his thick finger, released it and watched it unravel back to the way it was, there was something shy about his eyes when Tommy met them. “I just...kind of forgot, in the whole getting to know you thing and...well, also I’ve been waiting for you to have your gay freakout.” Adam says and Tommy just frowns and kind of snickers, because really? Only in Adam’s mind would singing and Tommy’s supposedly late gay freakout be connected. 

“Not that my singing is some private thing I guess I’ve just been...” Adam’s sigh is heavy, like he’d been carrying around something and just now decided to drop it. 

“You’ve been what?” Tommy asked, gently poking a long finger to Adam’s side, between his ribs and Adam gave him a pout, rubbing at the spot like it hurt.

“Been trying not to get too attached. I guess, I sort of...I have this problem with straight boys. I get these ridiculous crushes and I convince myself I’m in love, like an idiot and well, it’s just a problem. If I had a therapist they would probably think it’s self sabotage...like I look for these boys I know would reject me and that...somehow avoids rejection?” He said with a sigh. “I have issues.” Adam admitted softly.

“Ok, wow.” Tommy says kind of dazed, just trying to sort out of where to even start with countering everything Adam just said. 

“Number one, I’m pretty sure that kissing another guy isn’t a very straight thing to do, even when you try to blame it on pot. I mean, dude, that’s just gay.” He said and Adam’s smile in response is fragile but amused. 

“Number two, I’m not planning on rejecting you. I mean...in case this whole,” Tommy gestures his hands loosely, vaguely indicating both of them. “Thing was ambiguous, I really really like you. You’re like...the best thing to happen to this camp in forever.” Tommy said because seriously, Adam had showed up and sort of re-ordered his universe, but in the good way, where Tommy sort of felt like he was Alice and this had become wonderland. 

Adam opened his mouth to speak but Tommy reached up with something wicked in his smile, some of the tenderness in his eyes replaced by playful humor and mischievous words. “And number three, everybody here has issues, it’s like a fucking requirement. Hey, no, seriously dude, don’t laugh, I’m being serious, everybody here is batshit, even the Gods from what I hear. Actually, especially the Gods, I mean they have eons worth of baggage.” Tommy said with a knowing grin and as ridiculous as he sounded he was dead serious. Everybody at Camp has their stuff, their issues, Tommy knows all his shit. But the world has chewed on all of them to various degrees, and some of it is that teenage bullshit, and some of it’s darker, some of it is that spark of divinity they all have. Spark of fuckin’ trouble is more what Tommy thinks. 

Adam seemed to settle, fears pushed away for the moment, so far as Tommy could tell and that’s good enough, for the moment it’s good enough. 

“So...you wanted to hear me sing then?” Adam asked finally, sitting up from where he’d been lazily leaning against a tree, straightening his spine and sitting to his full height. “I think I can do that.” He said, fingers tugging out of Tommy’s hair which made him wince at where they’d been tangled up in the fine strands, instead they touched at the underside of his jaw, tipping up his chin so he was looking up at Adam, a vague smile on his mouth. Something about Adam made Tommy’s smile stubborn. 

Adam’s singing voice hit Tommy like a sudden punch, something that seemed to come from nowhere. It was strong, clear as a bell, smooth and pitch perfect, even with no music. It’s confident, no hitch or falter, it’s a remarkable voice. The thing though, what really changed it from a great voice to something ethereal...something other-worldly, is the emotion. 

Adam sang like he felt everything, every note and every word genuine, heartfelt...personal. It’s like a hand that just reached way down into him and grabbed and squeezed and without being able to explain. Tommy had tears in his eyes, blurring the lines of his vision as Adam said they’re all only dust in the wind. 

For a moment Tommy was there and just listening, then the realization sort of crept in. Slow. It was like a shadow, but it sort of gathered up and twisted at his belly, like he ate some seriously bad burritos and they were about to wreck righteous hell on his digestive system. It wasn’t so simple as that, he wished it were bad taco meat but no, it’s Adam, Adam and his fucking voice.

People can’t just sing like that, that’s not just talent, it’s divinity. He’s like Orpheus, and there aren’t many Godly parents who pass on gifts like that. Tommy is fucked, and it’s only now that he’s realizing how much, he needs Adam, wants him like a physical ache, but he can’t have him. 

He crawled up and backed away from Adam, hair all a muss, eyes big and kind of scared. Adam was just looking at him, breathless from singing, blue eyes shadowed with confusion and concern. Tommy can’t stand it, can’t stand to be there falling in love with him and knowing he can’t, thinking that maybe Adam is his brother, it’s too much, and he can’t do it. 

“I can’t-I-I have to go.” Tommy said, dragging his fingers through his hair, tugging too hard making his scalp burn as he gets tangled up in his own hair, practically tripping over his own feet backing away.

“You’re going? What...I don’t-Tommy, wait!” Adam was stopping and starting, talking over himself and his eyes were so hurt, so open and confused and perplexed. Tommy couldn’t take the blue of them, the earnestness, how Adam was just looking at him, completely open, like he’d give Tommy anything, including his heart if he wanted it.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy says, voice cracking, shaking his head as he turned and ran, like a coward.

“The hell did I do now?” Adam asks, voice quiet, tinged with confusion and hopelessness. 

 

Tommy didn’t know whether he was supposed to be relieved or just depressed that Adam didn’t follow after him, and didn’t approach him in the next few days. He felt him looking though, sometimes, but whenever Tommy went to look, Adam’s eyes were elsewhere and he couldn’t help but wonder if he imagined it in the first place.

Strangely, or perhaps, not strangely at all, Adam’s eyes on him, imagined or not, was the only thing that felt good anymore. He forgot Adam isn’t right there hanging out with him, he didn’t sit near him at the campfires at night, and he bit his lip hard enough to wince when he thought of something and reminded himself to tell Adam later. Only Adam wasn’t going to be there later, or maybe ever because Tommy royally screwed that up. Tommy was the one who’d freaked out and done what he always did when he was scared, retreated inside, cut himself off and ran.

It’s not like screwing up is a new thing for him, Tommy knows that much. Fuck, if he’s feeling honest he knows he screwed up his fair share of good things. This is the first time it’s been this real, this instantaneous. When he’d turned tail and ran from his family, it had taken a few months for the empty lonely feeling to settle in, to realize at 13, that he’d cut off a part of himself, that he’d resigned himself to spend the rest of his life without that part. Because it had been hard, imperfect, scary.

He thought maybe it’s his brain or his heart or something trying to tell him to fix this now, while he still has a shot at healing the damage he’s done. He didn’t know if it’s really the reason or if it’s just wishful thinking. All he knew for sure is that he missed Adam so much it literally hurt. 

Generally he felt like a miserable little shit, like he’d gone and fucked up the first good thing he’d had in forever.Then he started thinking about what had gone done, really thinking. It only made everything that much worse. He realized how much he freaked, and why? Because Adam has a good voice. 

Out of the moment, he had no explanation, just a sudden bad feeling, a panic that had sent him running. Just because Adam could sing didn’t mean he shared his god parent, lots of people could sing, they weren’t all related to him. Which meant there is no proof Adam is his brother, which also means that Tommy freaked out for nothing. Overall, he feels like a self-sabotaging fuck-wit, and for that there is only one cure; Mia. 

“You look like teen angst embodied, TJ.” Was the first thing out of her mouth, and yeah, that’s Mia, no beating around the bush, no niceties or platitudes, no bullshit. Tommy loves that about her. He slid into the seat beside her at the lunch table, slumped forward, face in his hands, wondering if he looks as tired as he feels. 

“Whats the matter? Did somebody read your diary?” She asked, mouth smirking, but eyes lit with concern that she didn’t express in the way any normal girl would. 

Tommy lifted his head enough to shake it, in such a shitty mood he can’t even be amused or pissed off by her teasing, he felt like a deflated balloon, like somebody let all the air and willpower out of him. “No, I’m just. I’m so fucking fucked up.” He said, voice raw and weary and so damned tired. He rested his head on her shoulder, burying his face into the nape of her neck and her dark hair. She smelled warm and familiar, like lavender shampoo and pot. 

Mia’s tone softened out and her fingers stroke through the messy short hair on the back of his head when she talked again. “Oh Tommy, what the hell happened?”

She may be no nonsense but she’s still a girl and it feels so good, so easy to press against her, feel her all soft and curvy against him. He almost wanted to hide his face in her bosom; he would if he wasn’t mostly sure he’d get a smack for his trouble. 

“I’m a screw up is what happened. I get one good thing, no...one awesome thing and I have to-” He stopped and just breaths for a moment. “I fuck it up, cause I fuck everything up. Because I, Mia, am a screw up.” 

“You never cared about being a screw up, it’s hardly a new thing, you’ve been a screw up since you first came here three years ago, but you own that, Tommy. You own your screwed up-ness, which sort of makes you awesome. I’m just kinda of confused.” Mia said, way too logical and philosophical for somebody who spent her spare time growing illegal weeds. “So, what makes it different now?” 

Tommy was a relaxed kind of miserable, Mia’s fingers tracing through his hair, across his scalp and the back of his neck, back up and down again. “He’s different, I don’t know, he meant something and it was...good, so good and it could have been awesome.” Tommy mumbled, voice thick with regret, muffled into Mia’s hair. 

“That Lambert guy? So what’s the problem?” Mia asked pulling away far enough to look at Tommy’s eyes, he wondered if he looked as pathetic as he felt.

“I told you, I wrecked it.” Tommy said, his voice almost a whine. 

“So you’re giving up? The hell, Tommy Joe? You’ve always been a screw up but I’ve never actually remembered you being a total chicken shit as well.” Mia said, cutting right through the whole thing, didn’t even bother to ask what he did, it probably didn’t matter in the long run. He can’t change what he’d already done.

“I mean, I know you’re all pretty but I’ve always been sure you had balls, so how ‘bout you locate them and do something about this whole mess, sugar?”

Tommy bit his lip, chewing it pink as he picked at the quicksilver polish on his nails. “What if I can’t?”

Mia rolled her eyes and settled her hands on his shoulders, steady and warm and surprisingly strong as she rubbed distracting little circles with her thumbs. “What if you can and you’re wasting your time whining to me like a little bitch?” She asked and grinned. The words weren’t really harsh, because Tommy knows her and knows Mia is loving and wonderful, she’s just...rough around the edges.

She made it sound so easy, like he can just go and fix it. He really didn’t see that happening, not with how he just ran off the way he did. Adam had got to be thinking that that was the rejection that Tommy promised wasn’t coming. If he were Adam, he wouldn’t want to forgive him. 

“So...how the fuck am I supposed to fix it?” 

Mia shrugged at him helplessly, her eyes have a little bit of shadow in them. It reminds Tommy of his own talk to Adam in the forest, about everybody having their issues. 

“Hell if I know, Tommy. I’m no Daughter of Athena, you want wisdom, trying talking to Cam. However, with that mouth of yours.” She said, considering his lips thoughtfully. “I’d suggest a blowjob.” She finally said, grinning and pulling back enough to ruffle his hair fondly.

Tommy almost wanted to laugh. It’s sort of a close call before he has to remind himself how miserable he is, but it’s the closest he’d been since that afternoon in the forest with Adam. 

“I’m serious TJ, your mouth is made for sinning. Just remember to cover those teeth and don’t be afraid to be a messy eater.” She added, going so far as to actually pinch Tommy’s cheek, like some kind of great Aunt at an awkward holiday get together. 

Tommy couldn’t help the smile she pulls out of him, small and kind of feeble, but it’s still there, also with a blush, because it’s actually not sounding like the worst idea. He also may be a little eager to jump back into this thing with Adam with two feet, and what better way to prove that he wanted Adam than physically?

“You’re a vulgar bitch, you know that right?” Tommy asked her, pillowing his arms on the stone table in front of him, slumping forward and resting his chin in the pillow of his skinny arms. 

“You say that as though it isn’t your favorite thing about me.” Mia said, grinning at him again, leaning in to press a messy and slightly obnoxious kiss to his cheek. He had to admit, Mia did what he thought she’d do--get him off his ass, talk him into trying to do something about his bullshit. He’s grateful, so he doesn’t bother with wiping at the sticky outline from her lip balm on his cheek As stupid as it is, that mark reminded him that he’s got somebody on his side, and it’s something, just enough, maybe. 

Tommy somehow gathered enough courage to grab Adam’s wrist and pull him aside as he’s about to enter their Sword Combat class, the last one of the day before dinner. His palms were disgustingly sweaty and when Adam looked at him, his eyes were wide, so blue and shocked to see him. 

Tommy had to wonder how it seemed he missed Adam even more intensely when he’s standing there in front of him again, for the first time in days. So close, and yet he seemed to be out of reach.

When he went to open his mouth he realized that he has no idea what to say and makes a sort of broken sound, like air getting caught in his throat, squeezed out of him too tightly to be comfortable. 

“Tommy....What-” Adam voice is soft and open, and Tommy, he didn’t want to break him, even if Adam doesn’t break easily, he just, he never wanted to be the person who could make that earnest loving warmth leave Adam’s eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” Adam’s voice corrected itself a little, made itself a little sharper, like Adam slid into his armor and Tommy didn’t even blame him for that. 

“I...fuck, I should have written this shit down.” Tommy said, releasing his grip on Adam’s wrist and rubbing his palms against his thighs until they’re dry, warm with friction. 

“I’m sorry, probably the best place to start. What I did the other day, Gods, that was screwed up.” Tommy said, tiredly.

“It’s...whatever, it’s over. I mean, there are things that people can do and things that they can’t. If you can’t, Tommy, I’m not about to hate you for that.” Tommy shook his head, gently settling his fingers unto Adam’s arms, digging in softly at his biceps, just above the crook of his elbow, he felt warm and real, solid.

“That isn’t what it is though, I just..I freaked out a second there.” Tommy confessed, the words coming now, like Adam had cracked the dam that was holding them all back and they started to flow out in a steady trickle, building momentum. 

“And no...before you ask, it’s not-wasn’t the gay thing.” He added. Tommy has had his share of crushes before but this feels bigger, like his whole world is shifting and all he can do is hang on by his fingernails. 

Adam looked tired, Tommy notices, when he leaned in closer, he’s sweaty, hair sticking at his forehead, he smells like grass, all blessedly real. “Alright, I believe you. It isn’t the gay thing. It was something though, and it really fucking hurt me. You just...Fuck, Tommy, you didn’t even say anything to me you were just gone.” Adam whispered and something twists up in Tommy’s guts, painful and sharp. 

“It was something, it was.” Tommy said in a rush, pressing in close, thighs bumping together warmly, he tightened his hold on Adam’s biceps, a squeeze to make sure he really isn’t going anywhere, he nudged his nose against Adam’s and his cheek and reminds himself to breath. “I thought there was something, that would keep us apart, and I didn’t want to want something I couldn’t have but-” Tommy had to stop, to release the breath, something shaky, fragile and unsure of himself. 

“There’s nothing there, and I don’t...I really, really like you, Adam.” Tommy said, smile so shy, so tentative. “This isn’t something that-...Please tell me I haven’t got you running scared?”

Adam looked like he’s about to say something, then he sighed, and in the heavy moments of silence they both heard the class being called together, knowing they had to go. 

“Look this is...so not the time to do this. But I...” Adam caught the fallen look in Tommy’s eyes and let a hand go up to cup his cheek, rubbing his thumb against the high jut of his cheekbone.. “Hey, baby, that’s...it isn’t a no.” Adam confirmed, brushing their open mouths together lightly, just a quick wet slide, like a promise. 

“That’s a, we have class but we’re gonna talk about this shit and I-Tommy, it takes more to send me running. I promise.” Tommy nodded, a shaky halting little motion, and squeezed Adam’s bicep with his fingers again before he forced himself to let go. 

In class things went spectacularly wrong. The collar around the hellhound, a great snarling beast that Tommy is pretty sure could fill the living room of his old house, accidentally got snared around Allison’s sword as she demonstrated a maneuver. As she moved away, the blade tears it free to fall in the dirt. The collar is the only thing keeping the beast under control and it snarled more, drool dripping off it’s fangs and Tommy has no idea how but Adam is suddenly there, pushing a terrified Allison out of the way and stumbling back as the creature pounced forward, snapping its jaws, trying to grab at one of the demigods in front of it and tear them apart. Adam landed on his back with the wind knocked out of him, weaponless. 

Tommy moved like lightening, heaving the sword in his hand at Adam, handle first and it landed beside him as he scrambled back on his elbows, pushing at the dirt with his feet and just trying to get away. 

Adam grasped at the sword hilt, blade whistling through the air as he swung it around to defend himself. That got the creature to back up, his mouth not quite as close which loosens something in Tommy’s throat. 

Adam was more graceful than he even thought, his body moved like poetry when he wants it too, and every line and muscle of his body was almost savagely beautiful as Adam half raised onto a knee, lunging forward at the creature, shoving up with the blade, impaling the creature’s neck with a wet sound. The hellhound made a terrible noise, something between a yelp and a howl of pain.

Its body slumped forward on Adam and for a horrible moment Tommy thought it was going to crush him under dead weight. That terror dissolved, though, as the carcass turned to golden dust, and was swept away in the summer breeze. 

That’s the problem with monsters --they never die. You can kill them but they all turn to dust when you do and sooner or later, they get reborn into the depths of Tartarus. Tommy tried not to think about that, the futility of fighting for his life is the harsh biting reality of superhuman powers and it isn’t one he likes to remember. 

Adam was left there, sprawled out in the dirt of the combat arena, blessedly intact,chest heaving with heavy pants. Tommy felt like there was something keeping him frozen to the spot until finally he lets go and he and Allison and the rest of the class move to crowd around Adam as he slowly sits up, smile a little shaky.

“Adam, holy shit, you saved my ass. You are...so crazy and I...I can’t even believe you.” Allison said in a rush of breath, practically throwing herself on top of him, hugging him tightly like she can’t believe Adam would do something that crazy, that he did it for her. Adam’s smile was tired but genuine as he hugged her back and Tommy felt warm and fuzzy inside out as he smiled at him over Allison’s shoulder and mouths ‘thank you.’ 

Tommy just shook his head, because he wasn’t about to take credit for much of that, all he did was provide Adam with a weapon, Adam was the one who threw himself into danger, who put himself between a friend and a monster without a second thought and if anything is raw hero material, it’s that. 

Tommy thought he can practically see a glow around him, like he’s more divine than ever, even bare faced, covered in streaks of dirt, he shines like a star, from the inside out. 

Nobody rememberd later who the first one to notice it is, but it’s Allison’s words that ring around in his head when he thinks about it. She looked up as she pulled away and smiled like Christmas morning. 

“Adam, your mark...your claim. See, I told you, I told you it would come.” 

He looked up through his mess of bangs and sure enough, Adam’s parental claim was reflected in the shimmering, glowing symbol above his head; a golden lyre. 

Apollo’s sign. Tommy’s father. Adam’s father. Their father.

Tommy’s stomach dropped out of him, seemed to move independent of his body and made him clutch his flat abdomen through his t-shirt. He remembers the feeling, like the first and last time he let anybody convince him to get onto a roller-coaster. It’s that moment at the top, where suddenly you go over that hump and you drop. You fall, out of control and speeding towards Earth, falling like a star from heaven.

Only this wasn’t a roller-coaster, there was no track, no seat belt harness, nothing and nobody to catch him and he just fell, speeding toward the ground, and when he lands he’ll crash, crash and burn and break apart into a thousand-million pieces of him that nobody would ever be able to piece back together. 

Adam is Tommy’s brother. Tommy is Adam’s brother and Tommy can’t breath, can’t think, can’t feel past the rolling queasiness in his belly and the overwhelming, suffocating sense of loss.

Tommy stiffly managed to settle a hand on Adam’s shoulder, and his smile is so brittle and sharp Tommy thought he could cut himself on it. “Congratulations, brother.” 

Adam came back to himself with those words, and something that had been lit and sparkling in his gaze goes out. Tommy hates to see it, he does, but he’s glad he’s not the only one hurting.

“Thank you.” Adam whispered back and Tommy, he can’t take anymore, he can’t pretend to be happy for Adam. As selfish as that is, it’s just too soon.

Tommy ducked out in the bustle of people around Adam and it was easy. Nobody noticed the broken look on his face or how Tommy had to keep wrestling down his feeling of nausea, of essential wrongness. Everything felt wrong, like it'dl never be right again.

He lost the battle with his body, spent his dinner in the bathroom, heaving the meager contents of his stomach out into the toilet, until his muscles hurt with the effort and his throat burned, mouth tasting sour. He doesn’t want to face anybody, especially not Adam, can’t bear to even think of seeing him, being reminded again. 

Tommy thought he should be used to this, wanting things he just isn’t meant to have. He wants to be normal, or at least something close to it. Heroism isn’t for him, all that fighting, blood and gore and brutality. He’s not meant for that. 

His hands gave it away, if nothing else did, they’re all fined-boned structure, long tapered fingers, smooth skin and callouses. They’re meant for music, meant for warm wood and smooth shiny finish, the bite of strings and fret boards. It’s delicate work, precise and beautiful, and that is what he’s meant for. 

What those hands aren’t meant for are gripping handles, with hot sticky leather. They are not meant for heaving heavy metal and wood, swords, daggers and crossbows, they’re all instruments of death that don’t fit in his hand, that have always felt so wrong. 

They aren’t meant for that and Tommy doesn’t want it, but he’s never had a choice in it. It’s all fight or die in the life of a demigod and finally, finally Tommy had something he could want, something he was allowed to want, something he’s able to have. Only not, because that thing that he wants, is his brother, of all things Adam could be. 

Tommy ended up back in his cabin, hid himself in his bed and claimed sick. He pretended to sleep the next day when Adam moved into the Apollo cabin. He listened to Adam and Monte’s footsteps as they settle in his things, focusing too hard on the beat and rhythm of Adam’s breath, his honey-warm voice as he talked in low tones to Monte. 

Once they’re gone, he can’t hold back the tears, hot, salty and shameful. He pressed his face into the pillow and shuddered with it, sobs that wrack his body and make his chest hurt. Tommy can’t remember the last time he cried and now he cries not just for Adam but for everything; every wrong and every hurt, all of them stinging and real. Adam, Adam is the last, the last thing he could take, the thing that broke him. 

He continued to plead sick the next two days, heaving himself out of his bed long enough to shower in the boys’ bathroom, and make an appearance at lunch. He doesn’t know if he should count himself lucky or not that he looks bad enough that nobody disputed his claim of illness.

He tried not to sleep, sleeping was the worse part. The subconscious doesn’t care about the guilt, the fact that Adam must be disgusted by him, by what they had, based on the way Adam avoids getting to close to him or looking at him. The subconscious doesn’t care about family ties or rules or expectations, it only cares about want, deep primal need, about the place where none of those other things matter and that part is the worst. 

Tommy dreamed in technicolor sensation, bright colors and vivid touch. He dreamed of that first night on the beach, pot-smoke, sandy dunes, silver moonlight and Adam’s freckles. He remembered Adam’s weight on him, over him, pressing him down into the sand blocking out the rest of the world except for their bodies pressed together, flushed hot friction and Adam’s kisses, soft lips and wet tongue.

He woke with a jolt, the cabin empty in the afternoon with everything awash in golden light, tangled in his sheets and cock throbbing where it’s curved up against his hip. Fuck it, he thought, forget the guilt and shame and the rules of ‘supposed to’, none of those things change his wants. They don’t make them go away. 

Tommy caressed his hand down his belly, snaking it under the waistband of his sleep pants, grasping at his cock with sweaty fingers, squeezing the base and shuddering as he pulls. He thought all the while that he shouldn’t, that this was bad and wrong and terrible. He can’t stop though, his hand settled into a sweet teasing rhythm leaving him sweaty, desperate. He squirmed on the bed, kicking down his covers, hips arching into the rhythm of his hand. Quick jerky pulls, thumbing the flushed wet tip, he imagined Adam’s hands, bigger than his own, thicker fingers, smooth soft skin, un-calloused and just the right touch around him. 

He tried not to think, tried to tune it all out and focus on the familiar sensation of his hand on himself. That at least is normal, something he’d done hundreds (probably more like thousands) of times but somehow it’s all more illicit, more wrong. Like he’s spread wide open mentally, and anybody who saw him could look and just know. Know what he was thinking about, what he wanted as he frantically tugged at his cock. 

He wasn’t sure which part of that he hated more, the fact that people would see all his dirty laundry hung there in their faces to be judged, or the fact that people could look at him and just paw around in his head. Tommy liked the thought that his emotions are locked up in his head, where people can’t get at them, can’t watch as they mix together and fizzle like bad chemistry, like the moment before a mini explosion singes off your eyebrows. They’re tearing him up into pieces, but at least nobody has to know it but him. 

Tommy squirmed a little, down in the bed, hand squeezing at the base of his cock a moment trying to remind himself that he has to actually breath, because he’s getting all dizzy and lightheaded. It didn’t stem the want, not even a little, his blood was still rushing around his body, a roar in his ears. He tried to convince himself he’s not thinking of Adam as he twisted his fingers at his nipple, the sensation bright and sharp. His hand came stuttering back to life in it’s movements, fingers tight. His body is a fucking traitor,Tommy gave up fighting.

It was embarrassingly short, even for jerking off. Tommy came with a soft strangled sound, his balls tight and tingling, he paints hot ribbons of white across his stomach. He felt it, slick and shameful hot, gathering in the little dip of his bellybutton. He lazes in the aftermath, feeling so dirty, sticky with come drying on his skin, he let his senses buzz with thoughts of Adam, wished he were there to curl up against.

He felt like he’s not as guilty as he ought to be when he finally uses a couple tissues to mop up the mess.

On the 3rd day after his summer comes crashing down around him, Tommy got up. He got up and gathered up as many broken pieces of himself as he can find, but all the wounds are fresh, stinging and bleeding and so sharp, the pain right there on the edge of his consciousness. 

Tommy tried to talk to Adam, but everything felt different, like Tommy woke up in a new world, a new world where Adam is practically a stranger as well as being his brother. He pretended it didn’t hurt, put on a brave face, and managed smiles even when his heart feels raw and cracked at the edges, little spider webs of damage running all through it.

He watched Adam even though he didn’t feel the weight of those blue eyes anymore, feeling jealous, feeling alone. Like Adam just flicked a switch off in his head when he found out they were brothers. Adam made the feelings go away, and Tommy can’t. If there’s a switch, he’s still groping for it in the dark, blind and hopeless and lost. When he looked at Adam, he didn’t think brother, and he didn’t know how to. Brother or not, he still wanted, and the shame didn’t change that.

He should be disgusted, he should be turned off, because it’s his brother, well, half-brother really, but the family ties of Camp Half-Blood mean something to him because they’re the only ones he has. He’s torn up with it, and things would make so much more sense if he could just talk to Adam, but neither of them can seem to bridge the gap and ask.

Physically they’re closer than ever, there were 3 feet between Tommy’s bed and Adam’s, but each foot is like a gaping chasm, the space between black and scary, bottomless and unknown. 

He’s desperate, isolated, people all around him but nobody understands. It’s like those first days of Camp all over again. When Tommy had made it over the crest of the hill, soaked to the bone with rain water, small and pale and shaking, thirteen and street-hard, bitter at the world and everybody in it. 

He goes to Brooke because he doesn’t know where else to go, who else could do anything for him. 

She’s been there even longer than Tommy, and everybody sort of loves her. Tommy understands that, he doesn’t see how you couldn’t love Brooke Wendle. Where a lot of the Aphrodite kids have a reputation as snotty and shallow, Brooke is kind. There’s a sort of tender gentleness in her and Tommy sort of needs it. Despite what he’d tell anybody, he feels dried out and brittle, like a flower left in the sun plucked from the earth and shriveled up, like he might disintegrate if he’s not handled with care. 

Her speciality is empathy, being able to feel the emotions of others and that’s another thing Tommy could use, some empathy. 

Tommy falls into step beside her as she’s making her way from the climbing wall, not her speciality, or her favorite, based on the way she’s dusting her hands together and half frowning at the ripped patches at the knee of her jeans, though considering the climbing wall has a real lava feature, she’s pretty unscathed. 

Brooke was smiling when she looked up and saw him beside her, brown curls framing her face, pretty as ever. Tommy was almost a little relieved, he still thought she was pretty, so maybe there’s hope Adam didn’t break him completely. He knew that thought wasn’t fair though, blaming it all on Adam, it’s not like Adam intended this any more than Tommy did.

“Tommy Joe, my favorite guitarist.” She said, her voice warm and welcoming like a hearth with a roaring fire, and just as bright as she leaned in and pressed a hello kiss to his cheek. She must have sensed him though, they way he knew she would because her eyes crinkle with concern, like his emotional turmoil is enough to pop the little bubble of contentment she seems to carry around.

Tommy didn’t look away or say anything when she pursed her mouth thoughtfully and looks into his eyes. He lets himself relax, go weak and feel everything, let it all sort of fill him up until he’s almost overflowing with it, almost needing to cry just so he doesn’t drown. She felt it all though, Tommy knows she must because after a moment she cupped his face, tender like he can’t bring himself to ask for, and kissed his forehead. 

The kiss sort of tingled on his skin, like a blessing and it sunk into his body, chased back the weight of the sorrow that’s coiled around his chest like a python, squeezing the hell out of him, it makes it easier to breath, even if only a little bit. 

“We need to have a talk.” Her voice was soft but he knew she wouldn’t let him out of it even if he wanted to fight her on it, which he didn’t. 

“You make it sound like I’m going to fight you on that.” Tommy acknowledged and Brooke just looked at him, weariness written into her frown as she looked at him. 

“Because you normally would.” She said simply, and fuck, he knew it was true. It’s a sign of the times that he’s reached out for help, sign of the times or just old fashioned desperation. 

They nestled themselves into a little spot at the corner of the empty amphitheater carved into the side of the hill, old stone cold and gritty as he sat on it, the same benches that have held generations of other demigods before him and it’s soothing, like the only home he cares to remember anymore is cradling him, holding him up cause he can’t do it himself anymore. 

Brooke stayed silent for a while ,her presence warm and right beside him, she just let him lean into her and feel her there beside him, reassuring. Not like he imagined Adam might react, how he’d flinch and tense up and move away as he imagined the disgust at Tommy, at them, at what they had. 

His eyes were swimming with tears as he looked up at the sky, unrelentingly bright and sunny, clear blue. The clouds were drifting around the camp; the weather never touches them here. Tommy wished it would rain though, it felt so wrong for the sun to be shining when he feels this way.

“My little Tommy is in love.” She said after a while. “Don’t try to tell me your not either.” Brooke added, her smile was sad but knowing and she had her hand on her chest, fingers curled at her breastbone. 

“I can feel it, you know. Your heart is full of it.” She said softly, Tommy could feel her eyes on him but he couldn’t bring himself to look back, he was too afraid he’d see pity there. 

“Highly overrated emotion.” Tommy said after a long moment, watching a gull swoop and wing through the air over the ocean. He’s jealous, he wished he could pick up like that and just get away, let the wind pick him up and carry him away from all of this. After all, it isn’t like Tommy has ever had difficulty running away from home. 

He didn’t realize that a few tears had slipped out until Brooke’s fingers touched his face, wiping away tears. “I know it may not seem like it, but love is never a wasted emotion.” She said gently, looking at him with understanding.

It made something inside him crack apart and he laughed, the unhinged, illogical kind, tears still wet on his face, insides churning and raw and ripped apart like he swallowed broken pieces of glass. It hurt and it made him so angry. Wisdom makes him angry, saying that this heartbreak is not a wasted emotion makes him angrier. 

“I call fucking bullshit on that.” Tommy said, voice unfamiliar to his own ears, gritty and dark, bubbling with all this sudden anger. How could the Gods do this to him? After everything, they give him something good, so good, only to snatch it right back up like it was only a trick in the first place. Tommy knows he’s not the best demigod around, but what did he do? What could he have done to deserve this kind of trickery?

“I don’t want fucking platitudes or wisdom or a fucking shoulder to cry on.” Tommy said, his voice growing in volume. It’s not that he was mad at Brooke, in fact he wasn’t even yelling at her, more looking up at the sky. He thought if he were feeling dramatic he would wave a fist at them, but he doubted they were listening or that they even cared. His father had never appeared to him before, he doubted he was listening now. 

Tommy knew the divine didn’t care for mortals, but he thought it would be nice if they stopped pretending like they did, stopped making fucked up children like him and all his friends.

“I don’t want time healing wounds and I don’t want to learn some cosmic lesson, I don’t want to understand it, Brooke.” He said, voice shrill and pulled tight, breathless and chest heaving cause he can’t get enough air. “I just...I just want it to stop hurting.” His voice was cracked and dying off at the end because it’s true. He didn’t want to learn a lesson, he didn’t want to grow and be a better person, he just didn’t want to hurt anymore. 

“Just...maybe I cared about being in love but now, I can’t...I don’t..” Tommy stopped, words just dying off, his tongue felt huge and awkward in his mouth; he didn’t know how to form the words. 

He took a quiet, deep breath and looked at Brooke, taking one of her hands and squeezing her slim fingers for a moment, grasping at that connection, that human lifeline. “I can’t want things I know I can’t have. Not anymore.” Tommy said, firmly, like he could change how he felt, realign the universe and his place in it because he’s decided he’s not going to do something anymore. Only decisions don’t mean a thing because he still wanted, maybe even wanted more once he knew he couldn’t have. 

Tommy really is fucked up, beyond fucked up. He’s only never noticed before because he’s one of many, he wonders if people in asylums feel that way, like you’re surrounded by so much crazy you don’t even see it anymore. Tommy was surrounded by other fucks up, so he sort of forgot he could be their king. 

Brooke looked at him and squeezed back at his hand. “I’m sorry, Tommy.” She finally said, pulling her hand away, tucking back a stray curl. 

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.” Tommy drew a deep breath, air rattled into him harshly. Tommy didn’t want people to look at him like he’s some half starved abandoned kitten, he’s tough and he can take care of himself. Tommy thought the real problem with pity is that somebody has to decide they’re better than you to have it.

“I just...I want you to make it go away. You can do that, right? I mean, you’re an Aphrodite kid can’t you do some like...emotional voodoo or whatever the hell you guys do.” Tommy asked, his voice soft and quiet. This is his only idea, his last hope to throw the brakes on his life. He feels like if he doesn’t then he’s going to go right off the rails. 

Brooke’s eyes were bigger than they were before, mouth turned down and biting at her lip like she doesn’t want to say the words that are bubbling up in her. 

“Tommy, you don’t know what you’re asking me for.” She finally said, distressed. 

“The thing is I can’t actually. It doesn’t work that way. You can’t create love out of nothing, you can make attraction that’s easy but love is...it’s not something you can replicate. I can’t make somebody fall in love and to that end, I can’t make somebody fall out of it either.” Brooke said, her voice little more than a whisper and she looked so damned earnest and apologetic, like she’d help if she could.

“No, fuck no, that can’t be it. You have to be able to, I don’t have anymore options and I can’t...I can’t fucking live like this. I can’t.” Tommy repeated and there’s panic rising up in him, coiling round his lungs and squeezing out the air, he can’t think and he can’t breath and he can’t live like this. It’ll kill him. 

“If I tried and I did it wrong, I could numb your heart, you might never be able to feel anything...for anyone, ever again. I can’t take a risk like that, Tommy, you’re my friend and I’m sorry, I just couldn’t do it.” Brooke said, insisting, because she couldn’t stand the thought of taking something like his heart away from him. Tommy is sweeter than people give him credit for, sweeter than he gives himself credit for. “Besides, taking love away, Tommy, it isn’t natural. It’s backward.”

Tommy visibly winced, it’s the wrong thing to say, the last thing that Tommy wanted or needed to hear. The whole thing is unnatural and it didn’t seem to matter how many times he told himself that. He looked at Brooke and leaned in close, the look in his eyes intense, a little bit crazy.

“He’s my brother, Brooke.” Tommy choked it out, and it’s the first time he’s said it aloud to himself much less to anybody else, and it feels like ripping something out of him, like a little shard of glass buried in so deep. “It wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place, that’s the unnatural thing. I thought you’d fix it, put it right. Everything is fucking wrong right now. Just..” Tommy shook his head, he didn’t have the fight in him anymore, didn’t have the energy, he was just tired and sad. Tommy just wanted to crawl back into his bed and just never move again. 

“Nevermind, forget I said anything.” Tommy’s voice was flat, dead, and empty. 

Brooke still hadn’t said anything, her mouth caught a little open, eyes wide and blinking at him like she’s never seen him. Though Tommy thought he saw a bit of a curl in her lip, a wince of ‘ew, gross’ in the shadows of her pretty eyes. Like Tommy needed to be reminded. Whatever, he’s disgusting and he’s in love with his brother. It’s not like he knew, it’s not like he chose this. That hurts too, the fact that it’s all just out of his control, close enough to brush his fingers against it, but not enough that he can change it. Fucking fate, fucking destiny, those bitches are cruel, Tommy is proof of it. 

“I’m gonna go.” Tommy said and got up, kicked a loose stone with the scuffed toe of his converse and watched it bounce and skitter away. “Just don’t tell anyone.” Tommy didn’t look at Brooke, he didn’t need to see, didn’t want to see the way she must be looking at him now. 

“You know I wouldn’t do that, Tommy.” Brooke said, her voice is soft and overly sweet, like Tommy is this fragile broken thing. 

He didn’t say anything else. There’s nothing else to say. Brooke can’t help him, nobody can. Tommy is apparently just screwed. 

At a certain point, all that hurt and sadness just becomes this rage. Not directed at anybody, except maybe the Gods, but he’s just so angry. He’s hurt and confused and he doesn’t know why he’s being punished that way. 

Being angry though, it helps. Tommy can get through the day again and instead of thinking about how much it still hurts, he can think about being pissed off and push through if only in spite of everything. 

Tommy was good at that, pushing through on anger alone. Those months spent on the street during his cross-country trek, he didn’t have much. A backpack of possessions and some improvised weapons to keep the monsters off his back. He’d had himself, and some days he’d barely even want to try and get up. Those days he wandered, not sure what he was looking for, everyday drawn a little more eastward. Those days his anger was his strength, it was what got him through each day.

It would just have to be that way again. Tommy could do it, he would have to. 

He retreats from everybody, as much as he can manage, only talks when he has to, goes about his business and chores. After a few days people don’t bother trying to make conversation or ask him to hang out. He spends meals tucked on one corner of the Apollo table, like right now at dinner. 

He goes through the ritual they all do, scraping a bit of their food into the fire, a sacrifice and show of gratitude to their God parent. Tonight Tommy pushes a piece of his pork chop into the flame and thinks, ‘I hope you choke on it, Dad.’ 

Something about it feels important. Tommy has never had much feeling toward Apollo, he knows he’s his father and all, but Tommy’s never met him and he’s always felt disconnected from him. He’s a son of Apollo, but his father isn’t part of his identity. In any case, Tommy’s never really felt hostile toward him, not until now. 

Tommy is blaming it on him, he’s the one who had to go around sleeping with mortal woman, going through partners like candy. How is Tommy supposed to know who’s off limits anymore? 

He didn’t know what he’d started that late afternoon on the porch, but he can’t stop it now, can’t do anything but follow it to the end, even if the fuse they lit ends up in a giant explosion. Tommy figures he doesn’t really have anything left to lose at this point anyway. 

If somebody asks Tommy later, in fact, he would say it was the anger that finally made him cross those 3 steps between his bed and Adam’s. Though really, he doesn’t need a reason. When he does it, it feels inevitable. Like it was bound to happen and why had it taken Tommy so long to notice that anyway?

Adam isn’t asleep when Tommy tugs on the blankets he has wrapped around him like a cocoon, he starts a little and sputters, but his eyes are too clear, too alert for him to have been sleeping.

“Tommy?” 

“Yeah, um, hi.” Tommy mutters and it’s probably the most awkward thing anybody has ever said while crawling into bed with somebody. Adam sort of scrambles back, long legs twisting up in the sheets as he struggles not to touch against Tommy too much, hard to manage in a little twin bed. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Adam asks, hands fluttering in the empty space between them, both turned on their sides and facing each other. All wide eyes and want and hesitation. 

“I don’t know anymore. I really don’t.” Tommy whispers, eyes on Adam’s lips and those couple spotted freckles that dance across them that he can see even in the dim light. 

“Ok...ok, we can’t. We really can’t do this.” Adam says, his voice gone even more quiet, shaken down to it’s foundation. It’s trying to be calm and logical, everything Tommy doesn’t want to hear about, not anymore. 

“I don’t care anymore, I don’t give a fuck.” Tommy whispers vehemently, conviction packed into that quiet statement. He can’t wake the other Apollo kids. “Maybe you...maybe you could turn all this shit off when this happened.” 

Tommy whispers breathlessly, and it’s hard to get the words out everything is all clogged up inside, his throat too tight. “That’s great, you know.” He says, with more than a little sarcasm. “Great for you that you can just, make that go away.” Tommy says and yeah, that’s definitely bitterness even as he squirms into Adam’s space, catching his teeth on his ear lobe and tugging. 

“Tommy.” Adam gasps, hand clinging to Tommy’s skinny hip like he can’t decide whether to crush him closer or push him away. 

“So yeah, that’s really good for you, but I can’t make that happen and I feel like I’m losing my mind here.” Tommy says in a warm rush of air, fitting his mouth to Adam’s ear. “Please...Adam, please tell me I’m not the only one.” Tommy gets the words out between sucking kisses and wet licks down Adam’s neck and it’s terrible, because his nerves are frayed, control shot to hell and he’s practically molesting Adam, but he’s warm and he feels so good.

“You’re not, Tommy Joe, just..come on, we gotta stop, we can’t.” Adam’s voice is a quiet whine as he presses Tommy back, hands at his shoulders so he can look at him and touch his face, cupping his cheek. “Hush , just...just breath alright.” 

Adam rests his forehead against Tommy’s, he matches his breath to Adam’s, soft deep inhales that clear the fuzz and urgency out of his head. Tommy comes down from that crazy emotion high, nuzzles his nose against Adam’s. “I’m sorry, I just, I didn’t mean to....you know.” 

“I just, get a little crazy lately.” Tommy tips his head and brushes their lips together, sweet and barely there. 

“Tommy, I didn’t...I didn’t turn anything off.” Tommy lets his lips part and the way Adam whispers against him and presses the words into his mouth it’s almost like they’re kissing again. “It’s why I’ve stayed away, I didn’t make anything go away. Honestly...I don’t...” Adam breaths against his mouth, and it’s lifesaving, makes Tommy feel alright again, that and the words. 

“I didn’t trust myself around you.” 

Tommy’s laugh is humorless, stifled to stay quiet. “I’m beginning not to trust you either.” He admits and this time as he slides into Adam, arms go around his waist and draw him close and the way they fit together is snug and awesome. Even if Tommy is still getting used to being the ‘girl.’ “It’s alright though.” Tommy whispers, mouth soft as he fits his lips to Adam’s and sucks his lower lip into his mouth. It’s innocent in the way of kisses. 

“I don’t trust me.” They roll together, all tangled up and Adam settles on top of him, weight on his arms, Tommy framed between them. There is nothing brotherly about it. 

The mattress creaks under them as Adam shifts on top of him, eyes wide in the dark, the brush of his hands down Tommy’s chest is as timid and shy as it is hot, and it helps stoke the fire in Tommy’s belly higher, even as Adam leans down and traces light kisses over his jaw and down into the hollow of his throat, whispering all the while.

“Wha-What did you say?” Tommy asks, hands skimming up Adam’s back through the cotton of his shirt and burying in his thick dark hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. 

Adam lifts his head and Tommy is pinned under the look in his eyes, the fire and passion he hadn’t remember seeing there before. “I said, this still isn’t a good idea.” It’s hard for Tommy to focus on that while Adam’s fingers draw across the strip of skin exposed where his t-shirt has bunched up with all the rolling around on the bed.

“Good ideas are overrated.” Tommy tells, him slithering out of his shirt, cotton too snug and too hot, like he’s burning up and he can’t escape the way fire follows Adam’s touch across his skin. 

Adam stops, hand on his chest, pressing down just a little on Tommy’s ribcage. Tommy thinks he must feel the crazy rabid-animal pace of his heart in there, like a bird flapping it’s wings against metal bars, trying to get out. 

Adam doesn’t say anything for a little while, just rests his hand on Tommy’s naked chest with his fingers splayed apart. The reach of his fingertips is crazy wide and makes Tommy feel small but safe under that hand. It’s comforting, like feeling home. Tommy hasn’t felt that in a long ass time and thinking about it would make his eyes sting so he huffs out a little breath and moves under Adam’s hand.

“You’re not gonna try and stop again right?” Tommy complains, because seriously, inevitable, the whole thing is and Adam isn’t stupid, he must feel that too. 

Tommy watches the sense snap back into Adam’s gaze as he shakes his head, bangs sliding dark and messy across his forehead and hanging into his eyes. His smile is boyish and fucking shy which is completely ridiculous. “No, you’re just...” Adam sighs quietly, shoulder rolling in a shrug, hand sliding from Tommy’s chest and down to his soft belly, fingers teasing through the little trail of dark hair around his bellybutton and down.

“You’re just beautiful. I want to remember.”

Tommy is always going to remember that Adam looks at him like he’s in awe, like Adam can’t believe Tommy wants to be there with him. 

“You will, and if you don’t, I’ll remind you.” Tommy smiles as he says it. Slipping his hands across Adam’s chest, he grabs his shirt in bunched handfuls and tugs insistently. “Now off with the shirt, ok, Romeo?”

Shirtless Adam is miles of pale skin, smooth and warm, freckles everywhere like constellations of nonsense written on his body. If Tommy had the time, if they weren’t in a dark cabin surrounded by their sleeping siblings, hell, if they weren’t siblings he would want to just trace his hands over him again and again. He can’t though, so instead he digs in his blunt fingernails at Adam’s back, leaving red marks as he tugs him down on top of him.

Tommy is getting itchy and frustrated, more than a little desperate but Adam is up against him, skin to skin. He searches him out with a whine, mouths latching together and let’s himself be kissed open, breath stolen right out of his lungs with each flick of wet tongue. 

Tommy’s cock thickens up like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and his hips are jerking, sliding and canting to their own rhythm with Adam grinding down against him, still kissing. Adam’s own cock is bumping and rubbing against Tommy’s through thin bunching cotton, right there and real.

Adam is huge everywhere against him and fills up Tommy’s whole universe. Especially huge where their hips are snugged up against each other, erection thick and heavy. Tommy wants it in his hand, his mouth, his ass, all at once but his brain is buzzing out in a tailspin of arousal and oxygen deprivation. He bites at Adam’s lip barely holding back the whimper that threatens to come bursting out of him. Tommy doesn’t do whimpering. 

“Clothes off, now.” Adam gasps to him, quietly dominant, which is all kinds of sexy.   
.   
Somewhere Tommy is nodding, trying to quiet the heavy panting of his breath as he squirms. Adam’s big fucking hands slip down his boxers. They tangle around his ankles and he kicks his feet, shoving them in a heap of obnoxious cloth to the end of the bed.

“Fucking fuck clothes.” Tommy swears against Adam’s mouth. His thumbs are pressing hard into Adam’s hips, he catches the elastic of sleep pants and yanks for all his skinny arms are worth, getting them down to Adam’s thick thighs. 

Adam takes over, pulls away enough to slip out of them and shove them away so they’re not interrupting Tommy’s viewing pleasure anymore. Adam has a fantastic cock, he decides after a little squinting in the dark. It’s thick, hot and rock hard when he wraps his greedy fingers around it. Kind of pretty too, long and curved just right, lots of smooth velvet skin and flared wet tip. 

“I like this.” He whispers, turning his head and straining his neck to get his mouth up to Adam’s ear. He squeezes his fingers around him, low at the base and gives a few lazy pulls just to feel how it moves in his hand. 

“Good, I’m glad.” Adam’s voice is smiling and genuine. 

Tommy hisses on a moan when Adam’s fingers find him, grip him tight and work his cock steady and purposeful. He twists, scooting his head up unto the lump of pillows so he can look between them, watch the head of his dick peek out from the top of Adam’s fist. 

“Fuck that’s hot.” Tommy mumbles, mouth slack and hanging open, sucking in air like somebody might threaten to take it away from him. It really is hot though, hot enough that Tommy’s balls are all tight against his body, sweet pressure built up too high and too fast behind his cock , burning at the base of his spine. 

Shit, he’s gotta stop this, got to stop it now. Even though his own hand is still moving. His grip gone tight, sweaty and desperate. 

“No...no, no, no.” Tommy’s hips jerk and his fingers are like a vice on Adam’s wrist, stopping his hand mid-pull. “So good, but no, I need...Fuck, it’s gotta be more than a handjob. Won’t be enough.” 

Adam doesn’t fight him. His hand slips away and he huffs a whisper against Tommy’s ear, tonguing at his silver rings between words. “Don’t worry baby, you’ll get what you need.” 

Tommy’s shudder goes bone deep and he clutches at his dick, gripping too tight at the base. It takes a little edge off the pressure, takes him a step back from coming all over himself like a virgin. 

“I need to fuck.” It’s as much a demand as it is a question. 

“I know, I told you I’m gonna give you what you need.” Adam repeats the promise and sits up, reaching past Tommy’s head into the cubby half behind his pillow. 

He shifts on top of Tommy, knees apart his sweaty thighs, bare cock bumping up against Tommy’s. 

“Spread your legs, I need to get you open.” 

Tommy’s legs fall apart, spread all slutty wide and relaxed like somebody said open fucking sesame. One foot is hanging off the bed, lazy, toes clenching and relaxing.

The fingers that press at him are slick, oily, and cold with some kind of lotion. They fucking pet at him, circle round and round where his muscle is drawn tight and closed. Tommy grits his teeth, gets dizzy and lost, brain all fogged up like window glass, time slipping and sliding away as Adam’s fingers pry him open, press in deep.

Tommy’s air catches, stutters all wet and hoarse in his throat, holding while those two digits sink deep, pressing the air right out of him in a sweet little sigh. 

“Oh fuck, please.” Tommy says, lost and floating, anchored down by the press of those slick fingertips at his insides setting his nerve endings from simmer to burn. His eyes sting with pain pleasure. His muscles clench so tight around two big fingers, like if he clutches just a little harder he could feel every dip and whorl of the pattern of Adam’s skin. 

“Such a good boy, so sweet. Come on and relax.” Adam whispers low, wiggling his fingers out til only the stretch of his fingertips is keeping Tommy open. Adam slides them right back in, relentless push at his prostate. Out again and in, the soundtrack of it wet and filthy, covered by the steady buzz of Monte’s snoring.

“Fuck baby, wanna fuck you.” Adam is babbling, and Tommy’s body is rolling and arching at the crest of Adam’s fingers fucking up into him, rubbing that that perfect spot, loose and open when Adam squirms a third wet finger in. It should hurt, but it doesn’t. Instead Tommy just squirms into it, feeling a little less empty as he screws those fingers deeper in. 

Adam’s fingers are gone too fast, the noise obscene when he slides them out.

Everything in Tommy is loose and unstable, like he’s made of gel and rubber, flexible and soft. So he hums, content when Adam’s hands grab too hard at his hips, manhandle his smaller body unto his side. Until every inch of Adam is pressed against his back, the air around them hot and sticking to his skin, making him sweat. Every inch of Adam’s cock is slick and burning up, nestled into the crack of Tommy’s ass. Adam rolls his hips, languid, like he just wants to feel the slide of his prick, head nudging his flushed pink hole like a tease. 

The springs in the mattress give a little creak of complaint but the other campers sleep on, none the wiser as Adam’s fingers grab the back of his knee and pull him up and open, tucking his knee up close to his chest.

Adam presses forward, blunt tip of his cock stretching Tommy’s ass to the point of pain as he starts to slide in, each inch disappearing in one long slow motion. Tommy’s fingers claw and twist at the pillow cover, tucks it up against his chest and squeezes. 

His ass is burning, stretched too wide on the thick cock shoved up inside him, can’t breath past the fullness, the pain and pleasure. His guts are all twisted up, almost like he’s sick. People would say he is, considering that’s his brother’s naked body spooning up against him. Also that same brother’s cock that’s splitting him open. 

Tommy got wetness in his eyes, as he twists in the sheets. Adam is moving, sweet little fucking motions of his hips that have Tommy’s body quivering around him. He’s got his hand on his cock, his tugging kind of frantic, biting on his lip to keep back all the moans and dirty filth he has clogging up his airway.

“More, more, more.” Tommy’s broken, wrecked little voice is begging. His body struggling on the bed, trying to get the leverage to roll his body back into Adam’s thrusts so he can bounce with the force of each one when Adam bottoms out. He tries to dig in with the heels of his feet but they keep slipping and he whines softly at the back of his throat. 

“I got you baby, sweet baby, so fucking tight, so fucking perfect. My beautiful boy.” Adam rolls over onto Tommy, crushing him down into the mattress. Adam fucks him with all his not-totally-human human strength. His hips stutter in a brutal erratic rhythm. 

Turns out Tommy does whimper, enthusiastically. At least he does when he’s stretched loose on Adam’s huge cock, mouth slack and crying out into the pillow that he buries his face against. 

Orgasm rips through Tommy like a hurricane, powerful and devastating. It trails fire up his nerves and spine, makes his body shudder, vision going white. He fucks down against the mattress, out of his mind, absolutely trashes the sheet under him with hot spurts of come. 

He’d feel bad about the mess but Adam is screwing down into him as far as he’ll go, balls huge and heavy against Tommy’s oversensitive skin. His cock pulses inside, slicking him up and marking him. It’s taboo and wrong; intimate as all fuck.

He thinks, Fuck it, Adam can sleep in a wet spot.

Tommy’s mind turns back on later, could be minutes or hours. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care. He’s on his side again, sweaty skin slick against Adam’s, big arms absolutely enveloping him, eclipsed by Adam’s broad body tucked around him. 

His eyelids are heavy as he stares out the window. The sky is lit in early morning magic, glowing blue and lavender, eerily quiet. Monte stopped snoring at some point. 

Tommy’s head is tucked to Adam’s chest, head rattling with the heavy thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. Tommy’s fingers twitch against Adam’s thigh, on an invisible fret board he plays a bass line in counter rhythm to the heartbeat pounding around his skull, fills in the down beat til his head is full of comforting white noise. 

“Your heartbeat is my favorite bass line.” Tommy’s mumbles, his lips dark from stolen kisses. He barely knows what he’s saying, he’s so tired and fucked out. Emotions scrapped raw.

Adam’s arms twitch around him, squeeze him in closer til he has to huff out the breath Adam pushes from his lungs. 

“Tommy...you know that we- That I shouldn’t have. We can’t.”

“Fuck you.” The words have no heat, no inflection. Tommy knows. He went in knowing. Once and never again.

“I’m so sorry.” Adam’s lips kiss the apology into his ear, too sweet, too perfect. Tommy stiffens in his embrace. 

“Don’t bother.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

Tommy spends the whole day sore, skin still tingling with Adam’s damn touch, ass still full of slick come. He thinks he stinks like sweat and sex but he can’t bring himself to care about that or much of anything else. 

He pushes food around his plate with his fork at lunch. The fork clatters on his plate when Adam clouds the field of his vision, blocks out the glare of afternoon sun for a moment.

He stand at the other side of the table, question written in deep lines on his face, plate piled with food and just...waiting for something. Tommy counts his breaths, one, two, up to six before Adam talks. “Can I- I mean, is this seat taken?” His voice is timid. 

Tommy wants to laugh and cry, but he just looks up into Adam’s eyes, blue, earnest and hopeful looking to find something they can salvage.

Tommy knows a peace offering when he sees it. He hides the weak twitch of his lips behind the curtain of his bangs and nods. 

“It’s a free country.” Tommy says and Adam hesitates, still hovering and unsure. Gone is the quiet dominance from last night, replaced by this unsure sweetheart with the most beautiful blue eyes Tommy has ever seen. He’s not capable of telling Adam to leave him alone, even if he wanted to. 

“Oh just sit the fuck down, Adam.” Tommy says, laughing because for a second, it doesn’t hurt so bad. 

Something around Tommy’s heart stops squeezing quite so hard. It isn’t perfect, not nearly, but at least Adam is looking at him, at least he has him in some way. At least Tommy isn’t alone. For the moment, it’s enough.


End file.
